


Without You

by Pteriw



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Healing, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pteriw/pseuds/Pteriw
Summary: Alternatively titled: Sandalphon and healthy coping mechanisms. Written for Lunacru’s 2k19 Secret Santa.
Relationships: Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)
Kudos: 31





	Without You

He dreaded going to sleep; the nightmares – though less frequent than before – still plagued his night. Most of the time he would just lie there, his mind racing with thoughts of loss and guilt. He wasn't betraying Lucifer by daring to be happy, he knew that, but it still felt like a betrayal of some kind, he just wasn't sure which. The mere thought of missing Lucifer becoming easier with time terrified him to the core.

So he took to writing poetry to help ease his mind.

Writing became a way to put his feelings at ease. The struggle of weaving his thoughts into words served both as a form of penance and cathartic release.

Through all his life he had no shortage of time to be alone with his thoughts; from the research lab' garden to his stasis in its idyllic, monotonous facsimile; he liked to think he was used to it.

The crew had been hospitable, far more than he deserved, and though Sandalphon had started to become more sociable with his crewmates – especially after he'd opened his café – he still preferred to spend his free time holed up in his room. 

Alone. With his thoughts.

He was sure his first few poems were sloppy, maybe even a little pretentious and mechanical. He thought it a byproduct of his construction as a beast. Lucifer didn't build him as a primal beast of arts and expression, and it showed.

Sandalphon liked to think that he was getting better at it though. The struggle was still there, but more often than not he felt happy with the end result. Enough that he felt they were sufficiently good to share with him.

So he’d often take his notes with him as he went to open the cafe. He would leave them somewhere safe under the counter, and go on with the day as normal. Then, after the last customer had left, Sandalphon would stay behind after hours, a cup of coffee on his hand and another on the seat across from him.

It was either therapy or torture – most of the time he couldn't even tell which.

"I wrote another poem today," he closed his eyes, frowning. The struggle to put his thoughts into words also manifested in times like this. "It's not especially good." Ah, there was the self-deprecation he had to work on. He looked down on his notes. "It needs some work,” he said after a quick scan of the words, “but I like the idea."

And then he would read it out loud. It was embarrassing at first few times; how would Lucifer react to this side of him? Just the thought alone made him long for death. _He'd probably try not to hurt my feelings at the very least_. But as time went on he allowed himself to think that maybe Lucifer would enjoy his poetry, even if just a little.

Wanting to share more poetry with him gave Sandalphon the drive to write something new every day, even if it was little more than a sentence.

These one-sided conversations became Sandalphon's nightly routine. After closing for the day he'd pour two more cups, set them on the leftmost table, sit down and just talk for a minute, sometimes for hours, about anything: his day, whatever he was writing, the primarchs, the crew...

He'd then open the cafe the next morning and throw the lukewarm liquid down the drain. It was methodical, barely a thought, and yet it felt like torture. That coffee was meant for Lucifer and Lucifer only, no one else deserved it.

There will come a day when we can share coffee together again.

***

He worked through the pain and turmoil in his heart by preparing and serving coffee for others. The cafe started out small – he couldn't blame his crewmates for still being a little wary of him after all – but it had grown to the point he considered asking Lyria for help on some of the busiest days. He knew she'd be delighted to, but it still felt like too much to ask.

While working on his craft, Sandalphon often found himself humming a tune. Formless at first, it then became a consistent beat. He wasn't one to go out of his way to listen to the musicians in the crew, but he had heard them; from Aoidos’ energetic guitar to Selfira's sorrowful violin, his barely strung together notes didn't sound like anything he’d ever heard before.

Before he realized it, Sandalphon was making music.

As much as he tried to keep it to himself, just as he did his poetry and after-hours conversations with Lucifer, this was something that didn't go unnoticed by some the more musically inclined crewmembers.

Niyon of the eternals had a keen sense of hearing, and she caught on Sandalphon's secret almost immediately. Despite the harvin's extreme shyness, she approached him one morning.

There, on a quiet hour after the morning's rush, Sandalphon had served a cup of coffee milk to the eternal. He turned to make a fresh brew and without thinking, he'd started to hum again.

"It's beautiful," she commented. Sandalphon choked out on the last note, catching a pretty nasty coughing fit that only served to make Niyon worry.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her usually calm voice tinged with a slight hint of panic.

"Yes! I'm-" he took a moment to ease his breathing, "I'm fine, sorry about that. What you were saying just now though..."

"I mean it." She lowered her eyes, her gaze wandering from the floorboards to Sandalphon's stunned face every now and then. "It's very pretty."

Sandalphon wanted to retort with something, he opened his mouth to speak but his mind went blank. He could only stare at the harvin, wide eyed and mouth agape, gawking helplessly as he fought to find anything to say.

Instead, Niyon's words pulled him back to reality. "And it also helps tuning the turmoil in your heart. It used to be so bad I didn't want to get too close, but lately your heart's melody hasn't been as discordant." She took a sip of her coffee milk before adding."It's nice, because I like it here."

He blinked a few times. Though he couldn't understand the specifics, what she said made sense – if barely. He had been feeling better lately, after all.

He went over the notes in his head, somehow he'd managed to string together something that could serve as a chorus and a verse. His mind wandered back to the primarchs of instruction, how much fun they had singing and playing instruments. He'd never been interested in such things before, if he wasn't built for that propose then what was the point? But now...

"I'm not-" he shook his head. There was no point in saying: _I'm not skilled in music_. She could probably tell already. So instead he settled with: "I'm new to this, I don't know where to go from here."

Niyon raised her eyebrows. Her eyes darted to the floor again and she seemed to be pondering something. Before the silence could grow any more awkward, she said: "I can help you."

"I- huh? Uh, thank you." He stammered – That wasn’t the response he was expecting. "I really wouldn’t want to impose."

"It wouldn't be a problem. I like this place, it's very nice in here." Niyon's voice was barely audible. She closed her eyes, a small hint of a smile on forming the corner of her lips, "I would like to help you perfect your song, so it could be even nicer."

Sandalphon felt like he wasn't following, what did one thing have to do with the other? Despite his confusion he wasn't about to throw away the opportunity of learning from the best musician in the sky realm.

So he smiled, feeling more at ease. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. "Thank you."

***

With Niyon's help he'd managed to grasp the basics of writing music. As he got the hang of it he came to realize it wasn't much different from writing poetry, only using notes instead of words.

Putting words into music. The thought plagued Sandalphon's mind ever since then. He knew it was possible for others – would it be possible for him too? Artists often had sources of inspirations, muses. And though it'd too presumptuous on his part to call him his muse, there were still some things he wanted to say to Lucifer. Things he never got to say. From poems, to monologues, to songs.

As he mulled over the idea, he cleaned the counter after a work day that was cut short by the untimely arrival of _that man_. It was nearly enough to ruin his day. Thankfully Lyria was nearby, helping with the dishes as she quietly hummed _Sandalphon's Untitled Music Project_. She had insisted on letting her help him with the cafe for so long Sandalphon eventually cracked. He couldn't say no to her, it was truly mortifying.

"Na-na na-na na..."

If a note was one syllable and every note had different time value... then maybe it would be easier to fill the entire song with nonsensical monosyllables. That wasn't what he had in mind though.

"It doesn't sound anywhere close to that," he commented, feigning disinterest as he leaned on the counter. Lyria stopped and looked at him curiously.

"Oh! Are you going to write the words for it?" She asked, all bubbly and happy.

_I'm trying_. He wanted to say, but somehow that didn't sound like a good answer. A smirk crossed his lips as he thought of something much better: "I don't know, why you don’t write them for me?"

Lyria made a strangled noise and she covered her mouth with her hand trying to stifle it. "Eh? Me? Why?"

"Because you're the best lyricist I know," he teased.

It took a few seconds, but Lyria's face went from confusion to happiness and then to confusion again – before landing squarely into a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "Uuung, now you're being mean!"

Sandalphon couldn't contain his laughter anymore. He put a hand on her head, trying to control the tiny fury he had unleashed upon himself, and murmured a quick: "sorry," between fits of laughter.

Lyria glared at him with all the intensity she could muster, but didn't say anything else and continued with her task – only a little more intensely this time.

Sandalphon couldn't bring himself to say it out loud just yet, but he liked having her around. She had called him big brother on more than one occasion. The thought brought a smile to his face. Maybe he had been a little too mean.

"I'm working on it," he said. Lyria turned to look at him again, warily. "Once it's done, I would like for you to hear it."

Her eyes light up instantly. "Really!?"

"Yeah. I want to hear your opinion on it. You're the best lyricist I know, I mean it."

“Yay!” Lyria jumped up and down a few times. “Just you wait! I’m going to help you make the best lyrics ever!”

Sandalphon laughed merrily; she sure was enthusiastic about listening to his awkward work in progress. Still, there could be some kind of enriching experience to gain out of his – almost sure to be atrocious – first performance. And if he had to share the embarrassment with someone, he wanted it to be Lyria.

***

Under a gentle shade, guarded by a strong tree, rested a beautiful ornate table surrounded by vibrant greenery – reminiscent of a paradise lost so long ago. There, in a world where the sun's warmth was constant and kind, a world where change was ephemeral and time seemed to have no meaning, former Supreme Primarch Lucifer sat down to enjoy a cup of coffee.

In his time in there he had come to realize that despite the seemingly unchanging nature of this world, it allowed him quite a few small pleasures in the form of small tasks; taking care of the plants being one of them. His nature as a beast meant that so long as he had a purpose, no matter how small, he could be relatively content.

_It was Sandalphon's idea, tending for the plants._

The thought made Lucifer look up from his cup, focusing on the seat across from him. Another cup rested there, the splitting image of the one in his hand. He'd taken the habit of pouring a cup for Sandalphon in anticipation of their reunion. In a world without time, he wanted to be ready to welcome him back.

"I'm taking care of them," he found himself saying, breaking the ethereal silence that permeated the place. "The delphinium elatum and linnaea parvifolia are growing magnificently, despite my initial mishaps, and the coffee trees are still bearing fruit, their strength comparable to the most resilient specimens from the sky realm."

Ah! He nearly forgot the most important news, "I also found two new records while clearing the gazebo.” He took the items resting on his lap and raised them to eye level. “The first one I didn't notice it until now, it’s a selection of some the finest pieces from some of the sky realm's biggest orchestras."

He set the first record back on his lap, focusing his attention on the second one. "As for the other..." Lucifer trailed off. He smiled to himself as his eyes trailed every detail on the cover. An image composed by his mind, for sure. How else could he explain the existence of something that appealed to all his tastes? He raised the cup to his face, taking in the aroma. “It may very well be my new favorite.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kickstarter to get Lucifer more music delivered to purgatory.


End file.
